Hybrid
by Kityye
Summary: Baby Peggy has grown up in the clutches of mutant haters. Faced with her roots, what will she do?


Disclaimer: Peggy and Logan are mine. Andy owns himself. The Taxi cab driver is New York's. Every one else is Marvel's.   
  
Author's note: Logan and Wolverine are two seperate people. Logan is mine, Wolverine is Marvel's. I refer to them as Logan, who is Peggy's brother, and Wolverine, man with claws.  
  
  
  
Hybrid  
  
His throne was tall, the back portraying a swan spreading its wings around the occupant. His clothing was regal, a dark suit covered by a deep purple robe with black trimmings. His coloring was foreign, a deeply tanned face with long white hair flowing majestically over his shoulders. His crown was of white gold, encrusted with amethysts, diamonds, and black onyx.  
  
She stood before the King of the Genosha, a little known fortified island that made use of captured mutants as slaves.   
  
Rising from a deep curtsey, she flipped her unruly auburn hair back from her dark eyes with a deft toss of her head.  
  
She was an exotic beauty, tall, graceful, well proportioned. Shoulder length hair framed her delicate face. Eyes so dark they seemed black and pale pink lips complimented her fair skin. A fine gold chain at her neck shimmered in the light and the long sheath dress she wore showed her figure to an advantage.  
  
"My King," she said, "You summoned me?"  
  
"I want you to go to the United States Of America and find a mutant for me," he told her.  
  
"Sir?" The word escaped her lips before she could stop it.  
  
"She is a very powerful telepath. Indeed, this is no easy task. Even as we speak, she is gathering a hoard of her kind to come and destroy our island."  
  
"Sir!"  
  
"Yes. Will you go find her and bring her to me?"  
  
"Yes, Sir!" This was the first mission that was hers. She had always gone with someone else to help them complete their objective, and here she was with her own. However, she had full confidence in herself.  
  
"Good. I knew you would do it for me," the King told her, with a regal smile. "The mutant's name is Jean Grey-Summers. She is a powerful telekinetic. Be careful, she was raised under Xavier's wing."  
  
"Xavier!"  
  
The King nodded.  
  
"You mean, the original Xavier? The one that...." The one that was described to little children to make them obey. The one that killed her parents. The one that gave her nightmares. Of course, she could never articulate all this to the King. She felt a headache stir.  
  
"That one?" she finished helplessly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Inside, deep down, a rage began to simmer. The emotion warred with fear.   
  
"Of course, you may take a servant with you. But I want you to do this yourself."  
  
"Yes, Sir!"  
  
She left the room feeling oddly elated despite the ache in the back of her mind. This mutant, she would kill. There was no doubt in her mind. None at all.  
  
  
America was a big place. This airport in New York had more doors than rooms! She felt like a sore thumb. Her travel dress was too formal for this country. The servant she had just finished training stood directly behind her. She had done well by him, and was proud.   
  
He had been no different from the other choices, yet he had been. Perhaps it had been how he stood a little straighter than the others. Perhaps it had been the was his curiously green eyes wandered away from the floor when she was on the other side of the room. Perhaps it had been the coldness, the hatred in his face. It didn't matter, she had picked him, and he had been a good decision.  
  
She found a taxi and told him to take her to the nearest five star hotel. He looked at her funny, but did as she bade him. With her servant carrying the bags, she got them checked in and up to their room.   
  
There she collapsed in a plush chair and closed her eyes with a sigh. Pampered since she had been brought here as a baby she didn't have a large physical tolerance. She was terribly smart, excelling at all mindwork, however she didn't exercise, indeed, didn't even go outside often.  
  
"You should not push yourself so hard, Lady" the servant told her.  
  
"I know," she told him, too tired to argue. She had a severe case of jet-lag. Jet lag and a painful headache. "Get me some of Mamar's potion." Mamar was her head servant back on the island of Genosha.  
  
She heard him moving around.  
  
"Here."  
  
Wordlessly she opened her eyes, accepted the heavy mug, and sipped the steaming liquid. Nearly instantly her headache faded, not disappearing, but it was no longer in the front of her mind and she could concentrate again. She hated how anything emotional brought the headaches on.  
  
"Have lunch brought up. We will eat here, then begin our search."  
  
The servant unpacked before lunch was served. After she had eaten her headache was virtually nonexistent. She changed into a more casual outfit - slacks and a blouse. It felt odd against her skin. She was too used to wearing the long Shakespearean dresses. She put her hair up in a bun for efficiency - at least that was normal.  
  
She managed to get them into a taxi and gave the driver the address of the place she first wanted to visit. 1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester, New York . A place, the King claimed, where Xavier had once lived. He said that that problem had been taken care of. Most of his "students" had been killed at the same time and only two had escaped. Mrs. Grey-Summers and her husband, Scott Summers. Scott had died later, taken down by the King's assassins. Mrs. Grey-Summers was the only one left.  
  
The taxi turned onto an unkempt lane. It bounced over potholes. The road dead-ended. Telling the driver to stop, she got out, the servant behind her. Before them lay a field. Blackened bits of foundation lay scattered on the grass. Turning back to their ride, she asked the driver if he would return for them in two hours. He agreed after she gave him a twenty dollar tip and hinted that there was more where that came from. Then he drove off.  
  
She took a step forward and stepped on something solid. Crouching, a real lady did not bend over, she pulled it out of the ground. It was a long and thin piece of metal, a sign. Calling her servant over, she told him to brush it off. He did so and she could make out the words, "Xavier's School For." Well, at least she had the right address.   
  
Standing up again, she wiped her hands together. "Keep on the lookout for anything suspicious or interesting. I want to see it," she told the servant. He nodded. His eyes were bright... with tears? Surely this place held no emotional attachment for him! He looked nothing like any of the X-men who had resided here before, with his green eyes and dark hair. She decided that she did not want to know.   
  
Walking forward, she found the center of a crater. A big crater. "He bombed the place," she muttered to herself. The foundation was broken and torn as if it had been in an earthquake.  
  
A man, a short, stocky man covered in hair, appeared out of the undergrowth before them.   
  
"Who're you," he asked gruffly.  
  
She jumped and the headache she had been fighting all morning hit her full force. She rubbed distractedly at her right temple.   
  
"Who are you," she countered.  
  
The man grinned, an oddly feral and menacing grin.  
  
The familiar pain in her head seemed to be gathering force and...  
  
"I asked first, bub. `Sides, you two look like folks I once knew."  
  
"We're not from around here," was what she meant to say. The words never left her mouth. She was dizzy. Everything seemed darker, even in the bright sunlight. She had to squint to see who she was trying to talk to.  
  
The servant stepped around her and asked, "Do I know you?"  
  
... crested. The red-black nothingness around the edges of her vision followed it and covered her.  
  
  
Voices, the servant's, the man's, arguing, more she didn't know or recognize, movement, being set down, her feet being propped up.  
  
Her eyes fluttered and opened. She was lying on her back. In a room. With the servant. It was mostly dark.   
  
"Help me sit up," she ordered the servant.  
  
"No," he said from above her.  
  
At first the words didn't register. It was the first time she had ever heard him speak. No, she'd heard him before she'd passed out. Wait, how could he know that man? And then: he'd talked back to her!  
  
"Wait a few more minutes," he said more kindly.  
  
There was still a throbbing in her temple. Usually the pain settled in the base of her neck. She absently rubbed it, then forced herself to sit up ignoring the servant. As she did so the pain gathered force and flowed over her. Again the dark curtain descended.  
  
  
"...strong willed..."  
  
"...jet lag..."  
  
"...why..."  
  
"...die..."  
  
"...Genosha..."  
  
"...Logan..."  
  
"...parents..."  
  
"...stupid..."  
  
"...collar..."  
  
"...Angie..."  
  
"...better..."  
  
  
She woke. There was no pain. Just blackness. Ah, there. Open her eyes. It was still dark. Noises. A beeping. Faint light. Green. Her throat was dry. The beeping sped up. She wanted a drink of water badly.   
A man. Over her. With a cup. Water? Why could she only think in simple sentences?  
  
"Yes, it's water, and you don't have the energy to think longer," he told her in a sleepy voice. He propped her head up and put the cup to her lips. She drank several swallows, then was done. He put the cup down and lay her head back on the pillow. He placed his palm on her forehead for several seconds and reached for the blanket. Her eyes closed and she was asleep before he had tucked the blanket around her chin.  
  
  
There was movement. She opened her eyes. She found herself in a hospital room. Why was she in the hospital? She hated hospitals! It was in a hospital that something had happened, something bad! She had been young at the time, but she remembered, a little. They had hurt her!   
  
She began to panic. Began to struggle out of the ensnareing sheets. And, then, she couldn't move. The man from her dream - had it been a dream - came running into the room, followed by the servant. The man put his palm on her forehead and she felt her body relax.   
  
She realized that the servant looked a lot like her favorite brother had. Logan. Same eyes, same hair, nearly same face. Of course, it had been thirteen years. A long time. She lazily wondered about the twins. She had disliked them. Angie, she had to think about her oldest sister. When she was... young, after she had been on Genosha for one birthday, she had seen her sister at the doorway. Mamar had told her she was bad, and then she had gone to the hospital. After the doctors were done with her she couldn't remember anything that had happened before. She had been tricked!  
  
But she seemed to be incapable of emotion at the moment, and lay in her bed, feeling detached from everything, content to watch the two men, the servant she now identified as her brother and the strange man who had given her water last night. Besides, she didn't have a headache, and didn't want to bring one on. It was a odd that the panic attack hadn't caused her to have one.  
  
"Logan," the stranger was saying, "Jean needs to see your sister. If she doesn't...."  
  
Logan, her brother, was shaking his head. "No, Andy."  
  
"Logan, she woke me up at one in the morning for a drink of water. She was projecting her thirst so loudly half the complex was up getting drinks. Jean can keep that from happening only when she catches it unless she sees your sister and puts a block on her. Jean says she can do it. I believe her."  
  
Logan sighed. "Can I talk to her?" he asked gesturing at his sister.   
  
"Yes. You just can't be to sure of a reply."  
  
He knelt by her bed, placing himself in her line of view. Her eyes took a minute to refocus, and she giggled. It was funny the way his nose looked.  
  
"Peggy," he said.  
  
Peggy? That was her old name. The new one was better. But she couldn't remember it at the moment, so she let it go.  
  
"Peggy, do you want to talk to Jean?"  
  
"Jeanie, weanie, beanie, fleanie, weanie," she chanted. Then she giggled. She'd said weanie twice! She couldn't remember what she was laughing about a moment later, but if it was funny, she could laugh again. She did so, and forgot the two men standing above her.  
  
Logan sighed in exasperation. Andy shrugged and touched Peggy's forehead one more time. She fell immediately into slumber.   
  
"Jean can see her," Logan said reluctantly.  
  
  
This time when she woke, Logan was there holding  
her hand. She smiled at him and whispered, "Hi, big brother."  
  
He looked startled. "You remember me?"  
  
"Of course I remember you! You were the one who fought for me when they separated us."  
  
"It's just, well, the past year or so...."  
  
She remembered the other things, Genosha, and fear leaped in her throat. Logan kept talking, soothing, forgiving, "You're safe now... not ever go back... it's okay..." until she came back to the present.   
  
She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for the way I treated you." She began to cry.  
  
He climbed on the bed beside her and rocked her back and forth, holding her head to his chest, forgiving her, blaming the collar, telling her that it wasn't her fault. Finally she looked up at him and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. He gave her a tissue. She used it and threw it away.   
  
"I'm sorry. I am such a crybaby." Even saying those words brought new tears to her eyes.   
  
"Don't worry about it. You know the chain you wore around your neck?"  
  
"You mean Mamma's necklace?"  
  
"Never, ever call it that!" The anger in his voice was tangible. She shrank from it. "That chain did not belong to our Mother! She never wore it! Understand?"  
  
"Yes," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.  
  
He looked at her closely and patted her arm. "Sorry, pet. I forgot. This emotion thing is new to you. Well, that chain was a much finer collar than the ones the slaves wore, but it served its purpose. It suppressed your mutant Inheritance."  
  
Oddly enough, she didn't feel the angry twinge she usually felt when someone mentioned mutants.  
  
"Your Inheritance is of the same sort as Xavier's was. It was so powerful that the collar had a hard time keeping if from breaking free. Because it was working so hard, every time you had a heightened emotion, the collar could not protect you from you Inheritance like ours could. Your Inheritance stayed inside you, causing your headaches."  
  
She looked up at him, puzzled at how he knew about her headaches.   
  
"Yes, you concealed them very well, however there were times you let your guard down. Anyway, when Wolverine snuck up on us, the surprise nearly killed you. Quite literately. It took us a long time to figure out that the necklace was the collar. It took nearly as long to figure out how to get it off without taking your head off with it."  
  
She smiled a little at the thought.  
  
"And so here we are today," he concluded.  
  
"Um," she said tentatively, "is Jean the one I was supposed to find and kill? I heard you talking about her...."  
  
"Oh, well, Jean is the founder of this place. Actually, the Mansion had many underground levels and the bomb only destroyed two. The other three are where we are now. She had the idea to use the old base."  
  
"Oh." Her eyelids began to droop.  
  
He planted a brotherly kiss on her forehead. "Rest. I'll come in later." He left the room, but before she fell asleep, she thought of all the crimes she had committed. She could never start over with a fresh slate. She would have to leave here and find somewhere else to go. She yawned and told herself that she'd think about that tomorrow.  
  
  
"Am I going to ever meet Jean?" she asked the next day when Logan brought her breakfast.  
  
"You already have. She made it so you weren't projecting so you could have time to learn your powers."  
  
"Yes, and you two look exactly like your parents from behind," came a different voice, one she had never heard. She looked up and saw a woman with red hair streaked with white, coming towards her. She had a wrinkled, wizened face. "When I first saw you two, I nearly thought you were Rogue and Remy come back to us." She smiled.  
  
Logan took the initiative. "Peggy, this is Mrs. Jean Grey-Summers. Mrs. Grey-Summers, this is my sister, Peggy."  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Peggy," Jean said, nodding her head.  
  
"Mrs. Grey-" Peggy began, but the older woman interrupted, "Please, it's Jean."  
  
"Jean, I was supposed to, um, well, um, take you back to Genosha. It was what my King ordered me to do, and, um, well, I'm not going to. I can't imagine going back, now, and well, I can't pay for my crimes at all, and, um, well, I won't stay because I don't want to impose, and...."  
  
"You don't have to. You didn't know what you were doing, and as the law here, I say you have a full pardon," Jean told her. Peggy's eyes filled with tears.   
"Thank you," she whispered.  
  
"Would you two like to stay?" Jean asked them. "I can train both of you. I know that you'll be helpful, and if you don't have anywhere else to go..."  
  
Perhaps she could start over again.  
  
  
Like? I really have sworn off this group. The children are all grown up and have no need of me anymore. R/R 


End file.
